The Death of the Firstborn (The 10 Plagues Pt. I)

Father. Bless my tears.
I am the sacrifice for your sins.
Should it save you or damn you
Let my life be a lesson in truth
That my innocence in death be your comfort
For I haven’t seen the world yet and its gamble of sorts.
I am a child and this is a short voyage
But which would you choose: blissful ignorance or the hard wisdom of age?
You have your years and the rest of them
More pain and blood and monsters and mayhem
And I will toast with the Lost Boys and Peter Pan
Free for endless dreams and eternally young
Let me sleep with the faeries
And stay with your bedtime stories.
And yes I am your lost heir
And a younger blood will catch my aborted wear and tear
But I am a child and let me be selfish
Father, follow your principles and don’t be caught with grief
For these men once gratified will ruin your empire and our ways
An exodus they say? Behold the way their god betrays
For their god is jealous and insecure and selectively favors
And what do they know about our own deities and prayers?
To be punished by someone else’s supreme architect
For want for power and dominance instead
Father, this is not your war.
This is between the cosmos and the stars.
And who are we but pawns for a more interesting history
For future children to read and know and be fed with folly.
But perhaps this is only fate and not some bullshit theist wet dream
Perhaps, Father, this is the extent of the stretch of my mortality.
But if we were all proven to be wrong, listen well.
Decide for the men we think we were, for what we stand for to our children.
Father, perhaps you can set them free as you will with me.
After all, kings live to make a name for mankind and for a colorful history
Like the ways of these gods, ours and theirs –
And we all are their lost heirs.